


eighteen minutes

by orphan_account



Category: 19天 - Old先 | 19 Days - Old Xian
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, M/M, Parody, Writer He Tian, repost from old account
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-29 13:10:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21410713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: This story is part of the LLF Comment Project (including the LLF Comment Builder), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates responses, including:Short commentsLong commentsQuestions“<3” as extra kudosReader-reader interactionThis author replies to comments.
Relationships: He Tian/Mo Guan Shan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	eighteen minutes

He Tian writes damn good smut and he knows it. He likes his writing more than he likes himself. That's fucking saying something. He's one of those people who laughs until their stomach hurts at the concept of writer's block. How can that possibly sideline him when he's lucky enough to enjoy sex most people jack themselves off to with camboys every night?  
  
Boy, times have changed. A week ago, he'd still laugh his ass off.

Now, he can't stare at his computer screen without wanting to shoot the wall and then his Felix the Cat clock.

"I cannot fucking write _shit_."

Kicking his overflowing black trashcan under his messily organized desk, he claws at his dark head of silken hair. This calls for an emergency summons. Fishing his phone from his jammed desk drawer, he pings the third number on his speed dial.

"You better have a goddamn good reason for calling me at 4:15 in the morning."

Ordinarily, He Tian would wake Mo Guan Shan, his boyfriend of five years and four days, running pearls of kisses up and down the buttery folds of his belly until he swatted He Tian off of the bed and nursed him back into his routine with a steadily burbling stream of inspiration.

Not an option, considering Mo visits his mom every Saturday and wouldn't come home until much later in the morning.

That leaves his begrudging friend, Xixi. An aggravating writer, he's churned out two one thousand-paged science fiction epics set in a dystopian universe where the government outlawed the use of all clocks and forced all inhabitants of the earth to obey the time mandated by their mechanized internal voices of God.

(Upon his third time reading both books in one caffeine-induced sitting, He Tian concluded he sort of enjoyed them for their offbeat humor and playfully zany conception of a conscientious objector forgetting what exactly they fought against. But he'll die before revealing as much to Xixi).

"Can you engage in some platonically risqué phone sex? I am so fucking desperate for inspiration that I must resort to the lowest levels of depravity."

He can hear Xixi sharpening metaphorical knives over the phone line. His breathing shreds air.

"Joking, man. Come on. You cannot imagine I subscribe to the shit that comes out of my mouth."

Death, omnipresent and overwhelming, travels in currents through the phone line.

"Tossing your infernal ass to Jian Yi," Xixi says. "You ever call me at this godforsaken hour again, you're dead."

He Tian snorts. "By the way, how goes novel number three?"

"Fuck right off."

He must forget about his phone in the process of returning to bed because instead of passing it on, he hangs up, but not before He Tian hears a muted "Serves you right, ball twister."  
  
Xixi and his boyfriend share multiple traits, the ability to hold long-standing grudges listed as first. _It's been six fucking years. Give it a rest._

Burning, flaring blue light with a heavenly brightness, the computer screen dares He Tian to construct the lovesick pulp of his heart into words.

"Come home, Mo," he says, hinged on a sob.

"I'm right behind you, sweets."

Oh, thank all of the gods.

Forgetting their height difference, He Tian catapults himself into Mo's outstretched arms.

"Since when do you write naked?" Mo says into the soft folds of skin behind his ear.

"Since this night. That sounded sexy as fuck. Gotta use that for a title~."

Shaking the slump of tiredness from his limbs, He Tian lifts Mo's compact bulk into his arms, reacquainting himself with the roughened smoothness of his skin. Burrowing his face in the heady warmth of Mo's chest, he sighs.

Kissing his hair, Mo smiles. "How about making love to me instead of your computer, He Tian?"

As he lays his boyfriend across the unmade bed, He Tian strokes the fine fuzz of pale hair sprinkled along Mo's head.

"Bet on it, sugar," he says. "But first you wanna read the new chapter of 18 Minutes?"

Biting his lip until a droplet of blood spurts across his teeth, Mo launches himself from the bed.

"Hell fucking yeah I do. We gotta see what happened with Xinyi's mom and whether Lei's his fucking rebound or whatever."

"Lei's the love of his life. Don't you dare say otherwise."

They won't know until they read Chapter 257, entangled in one another's arms, ready to bid the moon farewell with their unfiltered commentary guiding them into the embrace of the morning sunshine. Not that they'd have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the LLF Comment Project (including the LLF Comment Builder), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates responses, including:  
Short comments  
Long comments  
Questions  
“<3” as extra kudos  
Reader-reader interaction  
This author replies to comments.


End file.
